Before A Legend Begins
by Sangwaelen
Summary: The events that lead up to the legendary friendship of Sam and Frodo. Chapter 3: Some more of little Sam! "I tol' ye, I'm not little, I'm gettin' ver' big!"
1. Bag End

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Lord of the Rings, the Tolkien Estate does, this is merely for my own entertainment.

**Author's Note:** This is basically a pre-LOTR story on how Sam and Frodo became friends. Merry and Pippin may make an appearance, but they will eventaully have their own story, if I ever finish this one. Title subject to change.

**

Before A Legend Begins  
Chapter 1: Bag End

**

Frodo Baggins opened his eyes slowly, not wanting to get out of bed. A streak of light invaded the comfortable darkness that lay behind his eyelids, and he groaned. 

"Frodo, Frodo, are you still asleep, lad?" Bilbo's voice sounded slightly muffled, as if he was eating something. "You've already missed breakfast, and I may be forced to eat second breakfast without you!" Frodo smiled, knowing that Bilbo wouldn't mind at all if he was left to second breakfast by himself.

"I'm awake, I'm awake. Don't you start without me!" He stretched and untangled himself from the bedclothes. He dressed quickly, simply pulling his clothes from the top of one of his traveling trunks. He had only arrived at Bag End the night before, but this was no ordinary visit. He had to continually remind himself that now Bag End was his home, and Buckland was the place for visits. It hadn't seemed real when he heard that his favorite cousin, more like an uncle, really, had decided to adopt him. A rich, eccentric uncle at that! According to Frodo's rumbling stomach and the smells coming from the small dining area, Bilbo was a good cook as well. Frodo's eyes widened as he saw the amount of food on the table, and he felt they would never be wide enough to take in the entire sight. Bilbo chuckled softly and motioned to his new charge.

"Come, come, sit down. I can't wait for you much longer." It didn't appear he had waited, for there was a buttered bun in his hand with a bite out of it. Frodo sat down, his eyes still wide.

"I-I've never seen so much food for so few people!" He said, looking at it as if it would disappear at any moment.

"Ah, well, don't expect something like this every morning. It's a special, celebratory second breakfast, I suppose, to commemorate your first day as a permanent resident at Bag End." Frodo then attacked the meal like any tweenager should. Though he had a hearty appetite, he did not have the pleasant plumpness of most hobbits. _ Must be that supposed fairy blood_. "So, are you enjoying your meal?" Bilbo asked, one eyebrow raised.

"Yef, verra muth," Frodo said, not quite between bites. He slowed down a bit and swallowed. "Heh...I was terribly excited about coming, so I haven't eaten much as of late." Bilbo nodded knowingly and returned to his own second breakfast.

After a not so long while, both hobbits had filled in all of their corners, and they began the chore of cleaning up. Frodo was glad for the quiet, so different than Brandy Hall. It had once been a luxury, but now it would be the norm. The washing actually went quicker with two people, instead of several arguing and making a general mess of things.

"I don't think I could eat another bite," Frodo said, placing the last dish in the drying rack.

"Nothing is better after a good meal than a good book, eh, Frodo? Or perhaps a song..." At the mention of books, Frodo's eyes lit up. Bilbo had the best library in all of the Shire, and he could devour books like he could devour good cooking. "Ah, I knew you'd like that. Well, come on, I think you know where the library is."

"By the looks of it, all of Bag End is a library!" Frodo laughed, pointing to a few of the several books and scrolls that lay about the dining and main living area. Bilbo harumphed.

"I suppose it is a bit cluttered and unorganized, but everything in Bag End has it's place. It just seems that my collection has outgrown one room."

"Or perhaps you simply don't like cleaning up after yourself," Frodo teased, having noticed some dust on the higher shelves in the smial. Bilbo looked at him sternly, than broke into a grin.

"You know me too well, Frodo, my boy."

Bilbo's library doubled as a study, and a large desk with a lamp sat tucked away in a corner, covered in half finished letters and inkwells. A small round window let in the sunlight, and Frodo could see the dust floating in the rays. Of all the places in Bag End, he loved the library best. 

Bilbo's fingers ran along the spines of many leather books as his lips mouthed their titles.

"Ah, here it is," he said, pulling a thick book from the shelf. He rubbed a bit of dust off the cover, and handed it to Frodo. "I don't think you've read that one yet, and I'm sure you'll enjoy it."

"I think you know me nearly as well as I know you, Uncle." Frodo smiled and opened the book, eager to dive into it's yellowed pages.

"I think I'll work on my book a little bit more today," Bilbo said, pulling a small key out of one of his pockets. He unlocked one of the drawers in the desk and pulled out a red book that looked rather like a journal. "I seem to be a bit stuck on this part," he mumbled, mostly to himself.

"I think I'll go outside to read. The warmth of the sun on my back is always a welcome feeling," Frodo stated, feeling he should leave Bilbo alone to his writing. He closed the door to the library and made his way to the porch. He had barely begun to read his book when he saw two figures coming up the road. One seemed quite small.

"Who might that be," he asked himself as they approached Bag End. 

---


	2. A Branch and a Bush

**Author's Note**: Now, the introduction of Samwise! Er...sort of. Also, can you spot a small reference to a discrepancy that Tolkien made in the appendices of LOTR? First one to notice gets a seedcake!

**Chapter 2: A Bush and a Branch**

Frodo squinted in the sunlight as the figures grew nearer. _I should probably fetch Bilbo, if he has visitors._. He found Bilbo with a pen in his hand and ink on his fingers. After Frodo's news, he immediately abandoned his post.

"I'm sure it's none other than Master Hamfast Gamgee and his boy Sam. You remember the gardner, don't you? Young Samwise is a good lad, about six years of age...or is he eight? I never can remember, and the small ones grow so fast." Bilbo smiled at Frodo with his last remark. "I wouldn't mind having a nice chat with Hamfast after all. Would you like to join me?" Frodo shook his head and politely declined Bilbo's invitation. Though he often got along best with the younger hobbits, rather than those his own age, he had no desire to share the company of the hobbit boy. He had spent much of his time in Buckland with his small cousin Merry, and was quite enjoying being able to spend time with himself.

Frodo retreated to his room and tried to read his book, but he soon grew restless. The quiet in Bag End was almost unsettling, and it was a beautiful day. Still craving privacy, he slipped out of a side door, usually used to retrieve firewood in the winter. Often labeled a bookworm, Frodo actually loved the outdoors, but he had never preferred the wrestling and tumbling games that seemed so popular among lads his age. The only typical thing he had ever done was sneak into Farmer Maggot's fields. He longed for the seemingly noble sword fights and wars he had read about in books, and would dream up wild adventures. Sometimes he could even recruit Merry into the game, but the boy soon tired of being the 'damsel in distress'. Frodo laughed at the memory of his cousin wrapped in bedsheets, a scowl on his face. _I don't suppose there is any reason for me not to have adventures here at Bag End,_ he thought, picking up a fallen branch from a nearby tree. _In fact, I feel I'm in store for some amazing ones._

"Back! Get back!" He yelled as he lunged at imaginary enemies with his 'sword'. The branch was thin and made a pleasing whipping sound when he waved it. "None defy Frodo the Fearless! You shall not enter the Shire!" He continued to fight off wolves, orcs and other monstrosities he had read about, occasionally whacking the ground with the branch and sending leaves flying. Confident he had defeated all the phantom foes, he held his weapon above his head. "This sword shall be called Oakwhip, and all evil will cower at the name of Frodo the Fearless!"

"Actually, that branch comes from a willow." 

Frodo spun around and managed to smack his arm with the branch in the process. His cheeks grew rosy with embarassment, for the speaker had been Bilbo, and he had another hobbit with him. Both were grinning widely, and it was obvious they had been watching a bit of the escapade. 

"My, you've grown since I last had a glimpse o' ye," said Bilbo's companion, who Frodo guessed to be the gardner. He held out a brown hand, and Frodo accepted it. "I don't es'pect you 'member me, but I certainly do you! Hamfast Gamgee, at your service, sir." Frodo was somewhat taken aback by the title 'sir', and was instantly aware of the stick still in his hand. He dropped it to the ground quickly, as if it was something foul, a sheepish look on his face. Bilbo chuckled quietly, and waved a hand at Frodo.

"Why don't you let Master Hamfast inform you of the goings on in Hobbiton. Surely there is something I've forgotten to tell you." The lad followed obediently, leaving Bilbo behind for a few moments. He shook his head, laughing inside. _Tweenagers, forgetting it's just fine to play._ He bent over and picked up the abandoned stick and swung it about a few times.

"Bilbo? Are you going to join us?"

"Yes, yes, half a moment!" The old hobbit gave the stick one last swing, and did so with vigor. _Willow or oak, he was certainly correct about 'whip'_, the old hobbit noted, after accidentally hitting himself in the face. He could hear laughter coming from the front lawn. "What, may I ask, is so funny?" He asked, rubbing the tender spot on his cheek.

"Well, I've been told there were queer folk in Hobbiton, but that was never mentioned before," Frodo replied, his head shaking with laughter. Bilbo followed his nephew's pointing finger to a bush in his yard that had seemed to grow legs. "What do we have here?" Frodo approached the bush and looked under, not surprised to find a curly brown head attached to the limbs. Two large, dark eyes stared back into his, wide with surprise.

---


	3. Sam-Lad

**Author's Note:** Now you actually get to see Sam do something, and be cute. And this chapter is a bit longer! Yay! Oh, and if the accents seem off, well, I'm having trouble with them.

**Chapter 3: Sam-Lad**

"Well, are you a strange animal that lives in bushes, or a hobbit lad?" Frodo asked the widened eyes. The head they belonged to began to nod vigorously, though 'yes' was not an answer that could be used to reply to Frodo's question.

"I'm not no bush animal, I'm a hobbit, and make no mistake!"

"All right then, I won't," Frodo replied with a smile. The young hobbit eventually worked his way out of the bush, but not without getting a few branches and leaves caught in his curly hair.

"Samwise, look at ye! A mess, that's what ye are, a mess and a ninnyhammer," Hamfast said, leaning down to his son and trying to rub the dirt off his face. "Mrs. Gamgee will have me hide, she will, and yours too, if ye come home alookin' like that." 

"This, Frodo, is Samwise Gamgee, better known as Sam, unless he gets into a bit of a scrape," Bilbo said with a wink toward the small hobbit. 

"Pleased to meet you, Sam." Frodo held out his hand and waited. Sam didn't realize he was staring at Frodo, and paid no attention to the outstretched hand. His brow was furrowed in childish befuddlement, for this new resident of Bag End seemed somewhat strange. He knew that Frodo came from Buckland, which was a queer place in itself, but he acted different than the other older lads, and his appearance was somewhat unusual. Instead of brown eyes, like most of the hobbits Sam knew, Frodo had dark grey eyes that seemed very old, nearly as old as Bilbo's own, lighter ones. A somewhat firm grunt from Hamfast brought Sam out of his stupor.

"And pleased t'meet ye too, Mr. Frodo, sir," he said, not taking Frodo's hand but making a quick bow instead. Frodo was taken aback by this formality, especially since Sam couldn't be older than his cousin Merry, though he said nothing.

"My, what were you doing in that bush, Sam-lad?" Bilbo kneeled down to meet the lad face to face, and chuckled when he held out a fistful of weeds.

"Helpin' my da, Mr. Bilbo. I knows whats to pick and whats to leave now."

"Indeed you do know what to pick and what to leave," Bilbo said, discreetly correcting the grammar. "But, it seems that little Samwise may need a rest," he added, since Sam's cheeks were even rosier than normal from the work.

"I'm not little anymore, Mr. Bilbo. I'm gettin' to be ver' big!" Sam puffed up his chest and the older hobbits stifled a laugh.

"Not too big for stories, I hope, and perhaps a bit of elevensies. Of course, if it's all right with your da." Sam's eyes widened once again.

"Y'said yerself, ye did, that 'one can ne'er be too old fer a good story. May I, da?" Hamfast nodded with a smile. _He's only a small lad after all, no need to make him grow up too fast. And never turn down a free meal, I always says_. He chuckled to himself as he watched Sam enter Bag End through the large green door, and then returned to his gardening.

~~~

"...or whether they should sit on us one by one, and squash us into jelly!" Bilbo was telling his famous story of the three trolls he had met on his first adventure, complete with hand gestures and wonderful imitations of the three bumbling monsters. Frodo had heard it many times, but Sam was giving Bilbo is complete attention, not even paying heed to the sweet cakes and milk Bilbo had set out for him. 

Sam was quite a sturdy lad, though he couldn't have been more than eight. His shoulders were already broad and had strong lines. His small hands were already turning brown from work, and the dirt under his fingernails informed anyone that he had been working in the dirt. Frodo looked at his own hands, long, somewhat pale and almost fragile looking. He sighed and curled them into fists, feeling the familiar pang of being different. He had heard that folk were queer in Hobbiton, and many of his relations had said he'd fit right in with Bilbo and his neighbors. _They were wrong_, he thought, almost bitterly. _I'm as different here as I was there._ Sam's gasp pulled Frodo out of his own thoughts, and marked the end of Bilbo's troll story.

"Now, lads, eat up! I didn't set this out just for decoration, you know." He picked up a small honeyed bun with fingers still stained with ink, and popped the entire thing in his mouth. Sam tried to follow suite, but his mouth was much smaller, and he realized too late that it would be quite a chore to eat in this fashion. His serious expression of concentration while he tried to chew, combined with slightly bulged cheeks made Frodo laugh.

"Seems Sam-lad has bitten off more than he can chew, hm? Now, now, young Gamgee, take your time. The food won't scamper off the table!" Sam finished his large bite with a swallow of milk, leaving a white film on his upper lip.

"That I'll do, Mr. Bilbo," he said, picking up another small cake and being careful to take smaller bites.

"And drink up your milk, too. It'll put hair on your feet." Sam giggled at this, and wiggled his toes. While this conversation had been going on, Frodo found one of Bilbo's several pens and a blank piece of parchment lying on the table. He picked them up and began to scrawl a bit, practicing what little elvish he knew. Sam seemed interested when he was what Frodo was doing, and asked if he could see the parchment and the pen.

"Why, of course, Sam," Frodo said, handing them to him. Sam held the pen akwardly, and placed it on the paper. He stuck his tongue out in concentration, intent on what he was doing. He sighed when he was finished, and held up the parchment for Bilbo and Frodo to see. On it were shaky, crude letters, but the short word was spelled out clearly.

"S-A-M. Sam!" The lad beamed brightly, and Bilbo smiled back, with another wink.

"You're a smart little hobbit, Sam-lad."

"I'm not little, I tol' you, I'm gettin' ver' big!" "Of course! How could I have forgotten! I'm just a silly old hobbit, you know," Bilbo exclaimed, leaning his chair back. The three hobbits enjoyed the rest of their elevensies, until Hamfast came to collect Sam and bring him back home. Bilbo sent him out the door with a bag of cakes for his mother. "Tell her that this old bachelor can still cook, and ask her what she thinks!" He picked a leaf out of Sam's hair and exchanged goodbyes with the Gaffer.

"He certainly is a pleasant lad. Reminds me of Merry," Frodo mentioned, once Gamgees were out of sight.

"Yes, Sam-lad and Master Hamfast are two of the finest hobbits in Hobbiton, I'd say."

---

**Author's Note**: Yes, Bilbo calls Sam "Sam-lad". 'Tis a cute nickname, hm? 


End file.
